Luck
by Luck O' The Irish Seamione
Summary: Written for the Gemstone Competition and the Potter Games Competition,


An: Written for the Potter Games Competition and the Gemstone competition.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything.

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The last embers of the fire burned inside the tent. Hermione was outside on watch duty, while Harry was supposed to be resting. He couldn't bring himself to close his eyes though, not with everything going on. He knew that everyone he had ever cared about was in danger, and because of him. What was worse, was that he didn't believe he could save them.

The more time Harry spent out here, running and hiding, and searching for a way to stop Voldemort, the more doubt he had in himself. How was he, supposed to defeat someone so powerful.

He'd done it before, of course, but it wasn't really him who did it. It was his mother. All he'd done was sit there and got lucky. That's all it was, luck. Luck had been the only thing helping him get through the past seven years of his life as well. That, and the help of others.

He wouldn't have made it past first year if it weren't for Ron and Hermione, and he most definitely wouldn't have gotten the stone without them. It was like that with every other thing he'd come to face. It was all starting to feel like he was just some puppet others were using. That he was just a front, and nothing he did really mattered, it was all part of one big game.

Harry frowned, poking the fire with a stick, attempting to busy himself. He knew that he'd skated through his whole life with the help of others, and now, he was meant to end it all, alone. He couldn't help but fear what would happen if he was defeated.

Harry's eyes fell to the tent opening, and it was pushed aside. Hermione stood before him. The war had taken a number on her as well, and often, she held a very sullen look. When her eyes met his, he knew what she was thinking about. Ron. He and Ron had gotten into a fight a week earlier, and he still had not returned.

"You're still up?" Hermione asked, concern spreading across her face. "You really need rest Harry. If-"

"I know," Harry interrupted.

After a moment of silence shared between the two of them, Harry finally said, "What if- What if I'm not good enough to save everyone Hermione- What if I let them all down. They'll die because of me."

"Don't think like that! Yes, this is hard. It's the hardest thing you've ever faced, but I have no doubt that you won't save the world. You're brave, sometimes to a point that it's stupid. You have all the things that matter most. You have all the things that he doesn't."

"I never really did any of those things people credit me for though! Everyone thinks I'm some big savior, when all it was was luck." Harry looked down, not wanting to meet her eyes anymore. He felt ashamed, ashamed of what he knew was to come when he faced Voldemort.

Hermione just looked at him with slight tired amusement. "Yes, luck may have been a part of it. Remember when McGonagall awarded you and Ron those points after saving me in first year? She said it was for sheer dumb luck, but that doesn't me the two of you didn't save me. You saved me that die, just as you've saved so many people. Just think about what you did with Dumbledore's Army, Harry! You've done a lot more than you give yourself credit for," She smiled at him, knowing that everything would turn out fine. "Just, think about that. Get some sleep, I'll come wake you in a couple of hours, okay?"

Harry nodded, and she disappeared through the tent opening. Once again, he was left to his thoughts. Only, this time, he looked back at all the good memories he'd had over the past seven years, All the times he, Ron and Hermione had been together, when everything was good and simple. He thought of Ginny, and Neville, and Luna, and all of the other friends he'd made. He thought of the Weasley's, and how they had become a family to him. He thought of all the people he loved and he knew that they would be there for him. He might have only gotten through some things because of those who helped him, but that wasn't necessarily a bad thing. It was the one thing his enemy did not have. Followers were one thing, but love, and friendship, now that was another thing entirely.


End file.
